New Meat
by Potential Paradox
Summary: Interns never last in Lestrade's division. Chapter 2:Psycho coming soon!


**A/N: Well, yes I should be updating my other story right now, but… I may have kind of gotten slightly bored with it, since nobody seems to be reading it at all. Anyways, I just had the weirdest dream about Sherlock and a case of spontaneous combustion… then I got the latest issue of Popsci… which has an article about spontaneous combustion in it. Instant Love.**

Police Inspector Lestrade hated Fridays.

For some reason, the weird, messed-up, and just plain confusing crimes always happened on a Friday, and then he had to work through the weekend with some only semi-welcome help, and he never got any time off with his family.

It was a conspiracy, he was sure. Maybe he could ask Sherlock to look into that? And speaking of Sherlock… Well, as good a time as ever to send out the newbie.

It was another normal day at 221B Baker Street, John thought.

Well, actually, it was only a normal day if by "normal" you meant that Sherlock had blown up the microwave (third this month- did he have some personal vendetta against them or something?), and then set fire to some unidentifiable object (well, unidentifiable, now, of course. Setting an object on fire is a pretty good way of getting rid of, well, identifiable markings), stared at it for a few minutes in deep contemplation, and _tossed it out of the bloody window_. Naturally, John yelled at Sherlock and then went out to apologize to the poor bloke who had been convinced that his car had been hit by a meteorite. And therefore Sherlock was sulking and screeching away on his violin until John left the flat in a huff or broke the silence or did _something_.

So, yeah, just another day at 221B. Got a problem with that?

And then John was just about to ask Sherlock to stop that godawful noise and go to the morgue and experiment on the corpses there with that nice girl (Molly, was is?) or whatever because he was really, really starting to get on John's nerves-

*ding dong*

Well. That was unexpected, yet not unwelcome. On second thought, since it stopped the screeching, it was very welcome, really.

John glanced over at Sherlock. "Lestrade or client?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, you've got ears. Use them. Twenty-something male, rather tall… Hmmm. Probably Lestrade's latest intern- we'll see how long this one lasts…" He tossed his violin aside. "Should be a nice case though. They usually bring me the good ones on Fridays, so Fridays are marginally less detestable than the rest of the week. But it better be at least a seven this time."

"So," John commented dryly, "does spontaneous human combustion count as at least a seven?"

The young man, in a very stiff and new police uniform blinked. "A- a seven? I-Hu-Wha-"

"_Excellent!_"

Sherlock, who had been sitting absolutely still as Lestrade's intern described the case (stammering the entire time, too. John idly wondered: What, exactly, had he had heard from the others in the Yard about the horrors that awaited in 221B?) suddenly burst up out of his chair and changed from cool-disinterested-you're-an-absolute-idiot Sherlock to hooray-I-get-to-dissect-people-and-act-superior-to-Anderson Sherlock. It was rather amusing, really.

Sherlock dashed upstairs to get his coat and scarf. Just as quickly, he reappeared downstairs with the aforementioned articles of clothing in hand. John could hear him mutter something underneath his breath that sounded something like "I've always wanted to study spontaneous combustion, wonder if the body is still warm- no, don't make assumptions, don't get your hopes up… could just be some idiot with steel capped boots that all of those fools at the Yard somehow missed… "

Sherlock suddenly whirled around and faced the intern, who visibly flinched from the sudden movement. "You. Has anyone disturbed the crime scene?"

The intern blinked. "Ah- N-n-no, Sergeant Donovan said that-"

Sherlock threw up his hands in disgust. "Oh God, Donovan's there! If she's there, then so is Anderson! _Dammit!_ Hurry up, John, or else they'll mindlessly destroy all the relevant evidence on the scene!"

And then he rushed off without waiting for John in any case, because he was Sherlock With a Case right now, and had no time for such foolish human ideas such as waiting. If John didn't keep up, he'd only have himself to blame, even if he was Sherlock's best friend. There was no stopping him in this type of mood.

John sighed and stood up cracking his back (Good God, he was getting old now. Before you'd know it, he'd need a bloody wheelchair!) and casually headed out after Sherlock. Who, judging by the sounds coming from downstairs, had miscalculated slightly and slammed into the doorframe at full speed. (Always amusing to hear Sherlock swear like that. John had once caught him cursing to the cadence of Canon in C Minor, which one of his more musically inclined old Army friends had always sworn was impossible.)

Actually, hold that thought.

John turned back and frowned at the dazed intern. "Out of curiousity, did you happen to tell him where, exactly the crime had taken place?"

"W-w-well, um, that is…no."

"Well, lovely. Here, you can come with me and tell me where, exactly, the crime scene is. Don't worry about Sherlock, he probably figured out where it was from the pattern of mud splatters on your pants or something else about you that undoubtedly I failed to notice. He'll be there before we are, in any case. Probably solved the case by then too, if we're unlucky."

The bewildered intern followed John out. There was silence for a bit as John tried to hail a taxi.

The intern cleared his throat. "Err…Um… Is Mr. Holmes always like, um this? Like, always?"

John blinked. He thought about it for awhile. "Well,yeah."

"Um, if you don't mind me asking… How on earth do you deal with it? Like, y'know… you don't seem much like Mr. Holmes at all… and…yeah…"

John smiled wryly. "Frankly spreaking? I don't know what's weirder, the fact that Sherlock is the probably most unique individual on this planet… Or the fact that anybody close to him _expects_ him to act this way."

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